


lips pulled wide in a hollow smile

by furchte_die_schildkrote



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Oviposition, Aphrodisiacs, Belly Kink, Eggs in all melanie's holes!, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Mind Control, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Oviposition, Overstimulation, Oviposition, Rimming, Vaginal Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/pseuds/furchte_die_schildkrote
Summary: Melanie is not quite sure how she ended up in Annabelle Cane's bed, but she thinks she likes it. Even if a distant part of her screams when Annabelle blinks all six of her eyes. Even if Annabelle says strange things about eggs.
Relationships: Annabelle Cane/Melanie King
Comments: 9
Kudos: 171
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	lips pulled wide in a hollow smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prim_the_Amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prim_the_Amazing/gifts).



> I hope you have a fantastic Nonconathon, Prim! All your prompts were *amazing*, and I hope I did this one justice. :D
> 
> how many eggs can melanie king fit in her holes? the answer may surprise you

As Melanie squeals in pleasure, she struggles to remember how she ended up here—naked in bed with a gorgeous stranger named Annabelle between her legs, sucking her nipples gently and teasing them with her tongue, rubbing frustratingly languid circles around her clit. She remembers meeting Annabelle at a bar—the instant pull she felt as soon as she caught sight of Annabelle across the dance floor—but after than, her memory blurs. The next thing she remembers is Annabelle’s mouth on her naked body. The harder she tries to remember, the hazier it gets. How much had she had to drink?

Annabelle bites softly at her nipple, sending Melanie’s head shooting back against the bed and cutting short any concerns. As Melanie’s fists twist tight in the bedsheets, Annabelle smiles up at her with a look of smug satisfaction. Suddenly, Annabelle lunges forward, climbing further up on top of Melanie and kissing her with a hungry energy.

“God, you’re perfect,” Annabelle breathes against her lips. Melanie tries to respond, but the words stick in her throat. All she can do is moan as Annabelle’s fingers tease at the entrance to her cunt.

“You’re going to look so good taking my eggs,” says Annabelle as she pushes three fingers inside Melanie and curls upwards, pulling a gasp from her lips. “What a noisy little thing you are. I’ll bet you’re going to scream for it.”

The words sit strangely in Melanie’s mind, slipping away from her as she tries to understand them, but she cannot bring herself to care. What matters is that Annabelle likes the way she sounds.

With one hand working her cunt, Annabelle playfully pinches at Melanie’s nipple with the other, making her yelp. Distant alarm starts to ring in Melanie’s mind as something else begins to skitter across her bare ski. It feels almost like a spider crawling up her arm. It is the sort of thing that should make her jump, but cannot pull herself away from Annabelle’s kiss. This is not normal. Part of her is screaming to run. To fight. To panic. But those screams are muted by the pleasant haze clouding her mind and the skillful movement Annabelle’s fingers thrusting into her.

Melanie comes with a shout around Annabelle’s fingers, her head forced back and her body spasming as Annabelle fucks her through it.

As Melanie rides the aftershocks of pleasure rolling through her body, something catches her eye between Annabelle’s legs—a thick, writhing, appendage growing from between her legs like a cock, but more mobile. She feels a vague awareness that this should send her screaming, but all she can feel is the satiated contentment that follows a good fuck. That, and a curiosity as to what this thing would feel like inside her.

Annabelle brings her hand up from Melanie’s cunt to cup her face, her fingers still wet with Melanie’s fluids.

Melanie gasps as she feels something hot and slick probing at her entrance, as thick as any dildo she had ever used but with the dexterity of fingers. Fuck, even better than fingers, Melanie thinks to herself as it works its way inside her, twisting against the throbbing walls of her cunt like nothing she has ever felt before. She notices with frustration that Annabelle is not even fully seated inside her and thrusts down on the writhing thing, taking in as much as will fit inside her. She does not understand what is happening to her, but all that matters is that she is getting fucked and it feels _right._ The thing moves deeper and deeper, opening her up further than she would have imagined possible. Her muscles tense and her breaths turn to gasps as she feels another orgasm building.

Melanie comes again, arching back against the mattress and clenching down around the thing inside her, and Annabelle’s own breath grows ragged.

By the time the blood pounding in her head quiets, the movement inside her shifts. The thing grows stiff. Pulsing waves run down its length, stroking her insides in a way that is both intoxicating and too much. Melanie looks down to see something growing at the base of Annabelle’s appendage, swollen and bulbous. She watches curiously as it moves towards her. Her mind grasps at some sort of visceral, primal horror, but it slips away.

She glances up quizzically at Annabelle.

“I won’t lie to you, dear. The first few eggs hurt. And I won’t be calming you the way I am now. Wouldn’t want to dull the Slaughter’s influence on our children, would we? Do you think you can still be a good girl for me?”

Melanie looks at Annabelle in worried confusion before eagerly nodding her head. She turns her head to catch Annabelle’s fingers in her mouth, holding Annabelle’s gaze as she sucks her own wetness from them. Nothing has ever mattered more to Melanie than the thought of being good for Annabelle, of being fucked full by Annabelle. She moans and rolls her hips as she feels the egg press against her cunt, threatening to breach her.

Annabelle smiles. “What a sweet thing you are,” she says, fondness and hunger woven into every word that falls from her lips.

A sharp, burning pain rips through Melanie’s stupor as the egg enters her. Melanie tries to scream, but her voice does not obey. Her eyes well with tears and her vision blurs as the egg pushes into her, slowly stretching her so wide Melanie fears she is about to be torn open. As the tears flow out of her eyes, she looks at Annabelle. She _sees_ Annabelle—six shining red eyes, wisps of spider webs caught in her hair, and a tangle of spider legs jutting out from behind her, pinned around Melanie like the bars of a cage.

“That’s it, darling. So brave,” Annabelle whispers, tenderly stroking the inside of Melanie’s thighs as the base of her ovipositor begins to swell again. “The first few are always the hardest.”

The first few? Melanie’s thoughts race as the egg pushes its way deeper and deeper inside her, filling her so fully that she can feel her insides stretch and strain to accommodate it. How much of this will she have to endure? How many more can she fit? Her mind now sharp and clear with terror, she tries to fight as the egg moves inexorably, but her body does not respond. She is trapped—unable to stop it, unable to scream.

“Open your legs wider, pet. Hold yourself open just like that.”

Her legs spread wide, as if pulled by strings, and her hands hook under her knees to hold them in place. She is so painfully exposed—helpless and on display.

Melanie would have sobbed if she could, but instead her hips thrust down of their own accord to meet the egg as it began to force its way inside her, even as her whole body quivers from the strain. The pain is intense, but her cunt opens more easily this second time, too stretched and abused to offer much resistance as the pulsations carry the egg inside her.

“Look down, pet. See how well you are doing,” Annabelle says, Melanie feels a sick horror curdling inside her as she looks down to see a small bulge forming in her belly where the eggs have settled. Annabelle rests her hand on it, her lips curling into smug, fiercely possessive smirk.

“Smile, darling. You’ll be enjoying this in no time at all.”

Melanie hopes that is wrong, but as a smile stretches its way across her face, she knows it is not. Even now, as the third egg pushes inside her, she feels the throbbing pain in her cunt edge closer towards pleasure as she mercifully slips out of consciousness.

* * *

Melanie awakes to find her own hand buried in her raw cunt, fucking herself . Her heart is racing and her lips part in quick, needy pants. She is exhausted, used—her hair damped down against her forehead, dried fluids coating her inner thighs, and a slight bump rounding out her abdomen—and yet there is a restlessness crawling beneath her skin. An increasingly desperate need for _more_.

The room around her begins to come into focus—the vintage-styled furniture, the intricately woven spiderwebs stretching across the room, and Annabelle, laying next to her in bed, her eyes all boring into Melanie.

“Lovely, you’re awake,” says Annabelle, sweeping Melanie’s hair away from her face before giving her a look of reproach. “I won’t have you touching yourself, pet. You have to earn that.”

Melanie bites back a whine as her hand pulls away as if drawn by a thread, leaving her painfully empty. Instead, her hand floats to the small swell in her belly, and her stomach churns at how right her current state feels—well-fucked and full, even if something deep inside her is calling for more.

Annabelle slips two fingers between Melanie’s parted lips, laughing as Melanie sucks at them softly. Melanie knows she should be humiliated by her eagerness, but the intrusion in her mouth feels so good. It is not enough. She is still too empty, longing for something to stretch her full, but the probing jabs of Annabelle’s fingers exploring her mouth give her a satisfaction that Melanie had not achieved even with her own whole hand inside herself. Melanie lets out a soft, humming moan around Annabelle’s fingers, and a wave of contentment washes over her at having even a small part of Annabelle inside her, using her.

“Needy little whore, aren’t you?” Annabelle muses, petting her hair with the other hand. “My eggs have done quite a number on you.”

Melanie sucks even harder, without any of the skilled finesse of earlier, desperate and hungry as the restless ache sharpens into a painful awareness of how empty she is. Annabelle lets out a cruelly amused laugh as Melanie takes the fingers so deep that she gags around them, and Melanie feels a burning shame at how pathetic she must look. But that does not matter in the face of the overwhelming need crying out inside—

Suddenly, an idea strikes her. She frantically ducks down between Annabelle’s legs and mouths roughly at the ovipositor. Sure enough, it pushes its way inside her mouth, filling her exactly as she needs. Melanie moans around it as it leaks a slick fluid and begins to move into her throat. A moment of panic flashes through Melanie’s mind at the thought of choking and gagging around it, but it slides down her throat with disquieting ease. A buzz of pleasure thrums through her as her body is so thoroughly filled and possessed.

Melanie feels a rush of giddy anticipation as another bulge in the stalk begins to form. Annabelle knots her fingers in Melanie’s hair, holding her in place, but it is not necessary. A sickening eagerness shoots through her at the sight of the egg beginning to move towards her.

She should struggle, a part of her thinks. She can move now—fight. She might not win, but it would be something. Better than kneeling forward with her mouth stretched wide, eagerly waiting to get fucked full. Instead, any urge to fight back is drowned out by the aching awareness of how empty she is. Even as the eggs already inside her sit heavy, carving out their own space in her belly, she needs more. She knows what is coming. She knows that the egg will force itself inside her mouth just as the others had forced their way into her still-aching cunt, and that thought made her head buzz with arousal.

When the egg reaches her mouth, it pushes into her as relentlessly as before, prying her jaw open. The stretch of her lips as she struggles to accommodate the egg’s girth, the weight of the egg pressing down against her tongue and filling her mouth—it all feels so inescapably good.

A sharp horror cuts through the pleasure as the egg moves into her throat. Melanie stiffens in fear, the reality of her situation nearly outweighing her need.

“Shh, relax. You are doing so well. You can breath in a moment,” Annabelle coos at her, holding her tightly in place by the hair. Melanie’s heart races in panic as she tries in vain to breathe around its width. She can feel the egg moving deeper and deeper inside her, and with every inch, she wants more.

When it is finally still, Annabelle pulled back out of Melanie’s mouth. Melanie tried to chase it, but Annabelle held her firmly in place by the hair.

“Look at you, hungry little thing,” Annabelle says, her honey-sweet voice dripping with condescension. “I could fuck that mouth of yours all day, but that’s no environment for our children. I really should have shown more restraint, but you were just so desperate. I couldn’t say ‘no’ to a pretty thing like you.”

“What are you doing to my head?” Melanie asks, her voice shaking as she gasps for breath.

“I am barely doing anything ” Annabelle sings. Her fingertips dance up the inside of Melanie’s thighs, and the barely-there sensation makes her breath catch and her legs fall open. “The eggs can be rather overwhelming to mothers, but you are free to deal with that however you wish. You could run out into the streets right now if you tried. If you really wanted to. But then you would just end up begging the first stranger you stumble upon to fuck you, and I guarantee they will not be able to give you want you need.”

A shiver runs down Melanie’s spine. She knows it is true.

“And you know what it is you need, don’t you?”

Melanie’s stomach drops at the realization her ordeal is far from over. The thought of taking more eggs in her already abused cunt fills her with dread. Or maybe it is anticipation. She can’t quite manage to tease out which desires are her own anymore as the fabric of her mind is rewoven.

“I want more,” Melanie answers as she lunges forward, climbing on top of Annabelle. She straddles Annabelle’s hips, and the ovipositor works its way inside her—its movements rougher this time, less tentative.

Melanie can no longer remain still. She fucks herself on it, urging it deeper inside her, hooking her feet under Annabelle’s thighs to press herself as tightly to Annabelle’s hips as she can manage. She rides Annabelle hard, rocking her hips along the length with a wild intensity until finally she feels the swell of another egg pressing against her. The eggs force their way into her cunt, one after another. They move faster this time, giving her no time to rest between each repeated intrusion. The rippling pulsations that push the eggs forward massage her throbbing, abused walls. She is acutely aware of every inch of this thing inside her. Every little movement builds to a mounting swell until she comes blindingly hard, clenching down around the egg that had just entered her, urging it deeper inside her.

As she comes down from the orgasm, the eggs and the pulsations give her no reprieve; in fact, the pace seems to increase, dragging her back towards the edge. She comes again, screaming. Her nerves feel raw and flayed open, and the waves of pleasure turn painfully overwhelming. The cycle continues on and on, with the intensity of the movements inside her increasing with each successive orgasm until all Melanie can do is endure the sensations wracking her body, leaving her a drooling, overstimulated mess.

Finally, just as Melanie doubts she can take anymore, the eggs stop coming and the movements slow into something gentle, almost calming. As Melanie returns to her senses, she sees that her belly is massive, stretched taut and swollen, the heft of the eggs making even the simplest movement a challenge. Even breathing is a struggle.

“You’re almost done, pet.”

Melanie shakes her head. “No, I can’t—”

“Off,” Annabelle orders, motioning with her hand. “I want you on your hands and knees. Show me that cute little ass of yours.”

Melanie obeys, burning at how much she needs what Annabelle is about to do. She wishes there were a hint of compulsion driving her motions, but deep down, she knows she is in control of each movement she makes.

“Your cunt may be full, but I’m sure we can find room for a few more eggs. Don’t you?”

Before Melanie can respond, Annabelle’s mouth is on her, pulling sharp gasp from Melanie’s parted lips. The warm, wet heat of Annabelle’s tongue runs over the rim of Melanie’s hole, gentle and insistent all at the same time, making Melanie writhe and thrust back against Annabelle’s mouth, desperate for more. It is piercingly intimate. When Annabelle slips her tongue inside Melanie’s hole, Melanie’s arms give out underneath her. She buries her face in the pillow in a vain attempt to hold in a needy whine.

As Annabelle’s tongue works the tight ring of muscle, her hand dips down to Melanie’s raw and abused cunt, making Melanie wince even as she squirms from the movement of Annabelle’s mouth on her ass. Pain and pleasure intermingle so thoroughly that Melanie wonders if she will ever be able to tell them apart again. Now, it is all just sensation, as Annabelle teases her ass open and moves her hand roughly over her cunt.

Melanie shivers as she realizes Annabelle is slicking her hand—her whole hand— in the fluids leaking out of her. Melanie burns in humiliation as she wonders what her cunt must look like—swollen, sloppy, and used. The arousal building inside her coils tighter at the thought.

Melanie’s breathe stutters as Annabelle pushes a finger inside her. It is such a small intrusion compared to what she has already taken, to what she is going to take, and yet it still manages to drive her wild. A second finger slides in without any resistance; Melanie is so exhausted and fucked out that her body has no choice but to accept whatever Annabelle gives her, and a shameful part of her thrills at being so thoroughly used. Melanie inhales sharply as Annabelle curls her fingers and begins to massage the muscle of the rim from the inside, pulling gently at it and drawing out sensations Melanie has never imagined. Melanie whines into the pillow and rocks back against Annabelle’s fingers. She needs them to do more, to drive into her and fuck her open.

“Oh, you love that, don’t you?” Annabelle says, adding a third finger and beginning to fuck into her properly. Just the stretch from three fingers is intense. Melanie can scarcely imagine how she is suppose to accommodate more eggs, but regardless, the thought fills her with an overwhelming desire.

Melanie lets out a lewd moan as Annabelle worked a fourth finger into her ass. Her breath hitches in anticipation as Annabelle’s thumb is forced in alongside them. The inescapability of what is about to come fills Melanie with a sudden panic as her animal fears take over. She squirms to pull away from Annabelle, but she can barely move with the heavy weight of her swollen belly.

“Shh, shh. Breath,” Annabelle hushes her, running her free hand is soft, soothing circles at the small of Melanie’s back. “You’re almost there. Just think how good you’ll look coming on my hand.”

As Annabelle’s hand begins to press inside her, Melanie forces herself to breath through it. What other choice does she have? The stretch in her rim burns hot and her muscles quiver as they struggle to take Annabelle’s hand. Her mind races with a storm of sensation and pressure and pain and fullness. Melanie wishes she could hate it.

“You can touch yourself, pet. If you want,” Annabelle grants just as the widest part of Annabelle’s hand begins to enter her. Melanie burns at the taunt dancing in Annabelle’s voice, but by this point, she is well past pride and shame. Melanie’s hand shoots back to her clit and begins rubbing furiously.

Melanie comes as Annabelle’s hand is fully seated inside her. As Melanie’s hand falls away from her clit, Annabelle lands a quick, sharp slap to her asscheek.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” Annabelle says.

Melanie rubs her oversensitive clit as Annabelle fucks into her with her hand. The fullness and pressure When Melanie comes again, she can hardly tell if it is pleasure or electric pain running through her entire body.

Annabelle’s hand pulls out, only to be quickly replaced by her writhing ovipositor. It moves deeper and deeper until Annabelle’s hips are flush with hers. The swell of another egg presses against Melanie’s rim, catching, and suddenly a panicked fear shoots through Melanie’s head that _this_ will be what finally breaks her.

“Please, no,” Melanie begs. “It’s too much. I can’t–”

“I’ll decide when you’ve had enough, pet. Breath through it,” Annabelle coaxes her in gentle but firm tone. “And hands off. I’m afraid only good girls get to touch themselves.”

Melanie pulls her hand away from her clit, relief from stimulation mixing with shame of being told off like a child. She breathes as she feels her rim straining and burning, doubting whether she can take this egg. But sure enough it enters her, stretching her open and driving into her as relentlessly as all the others, followed by another and another until finally it ends.

As Annabelle withdraws, Melanie collapses onto her side, not an ounce of strength left in her body. As she looks down, she feels a strange mix of affection and horror. She is massive, the skin stretched taut over her swollen, pregnant belly.

Annabelle caresses Melanie’s stomach as Melanie struggles to remain conscious. “Rest while you can, pet. It should be at least another few hours before you start begging again.”

Melanie’s stomach drops. There is so much she wants to say— _What have you done to me?_ and _Fuck you_ and _Will I survive this?—_ but she cannot bring herself to accept how utterly dependent she is in this state. She is weak. Vulnerable. Helpless. The thought makes her want to ball her hands into fists until her nails break through the skin, but her every muscle is leaden with exhaustion.

“I won’t fucking beg for you,” Melanie manages, the wrecked quiver of her voice making very clear how ridiculous that statement is.

“It’s sweet that you still think you have a choice,” says Annabelle.

“Let me go. Please.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, pet. Unless you want the eggs to feed on you, they are going to require regular feedings from me,” Annabelle says coyly, savoring the word “feedings” in a way that made Melanie's skin crawl. Her fingers trace along the stretch marks painting Melanie’s swollen stomach before placing a tender kiss on its side. “They’ll tell you when they need me. And don’t worry, all you have to do is lay back and enjoy it.”

Melanie wishes she could sob as unconsciousness envelops her.


End file.
